


look into your eyes and the sky's the limit

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Complicated Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial of Feelings, Exposition, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Movie Night, Realm of Mianite, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is some joking cuddles to get someone to realize their pent-up feelings.orTom is a hurricane and Tucker is the eye.
Relationships: William Tucker Boner/Tom Cassell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Anonymous, Mianite Modern Politics AU





	look into your eyes and the sky's the limit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SyverneSien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyverneSien/gifts).



It was not unusual for Tucker and Tom to watch a movie together at the end of the week. It helped them both unwind after seven days of stressful meetings and paperwork and allowed them to just be friends instead of political rivals. Movies were picked carefully, to avoid arguments. This week, it was  _ the Princess Bride, _ which they’d watched at least seven times over, but Tom had insisted and Tucker had been too tired to fight.

Tucker was sitting with his legs tucked up against his chest on one end of the couch and Tom was splayed out across the rest of the sofa. Tucker was tempted to kick him. Through the beginning scenes of the movie, Tom shifted restlessly, making Tucker progressively more annoyed.

It was when Tom accidentally jabbed Tucker in the side with his heel that Tucker snapped, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. He glared at Tom. “Pick a sitting position and stay in it!” he snarled, eyes ablaze.

Tom pouted dramatically and sat up into a relatively regular sitting position, folding his arms over his chest and hunching over. There was mischief in his eyes, however, and Tucker had a sudden flashback to the time Tom had filled his office with rubber ducks. Well, whatever. If it meant that they could finish the movie in peace, Tucker would deal with whatever prank Tom wanted to pull.

To Tucker’s relief, Tom didn’t seem in a hurry to annoy Tucker again. He managed to enjoy most of the movie, laughing along with Tom at the stupid jokes that never seemed to get old. _ Maybe it will be a good night after all. _

Tucker realized that he’d spoken too soon when Tom suddenly flopped over onto him, squishing him against the arm of the sofa and making him squeak in surprise. Tucker froze, unsure how to react. Tom’s eyes stayed focused on the movie, but his arm snaked around Tucker’s waist and his head fell against Tucker’s shoulder. Tucker blinked.

“ _ Tom, _ what the f-” Tucker started, though he made no move to push Tom off of him. He kept his arms raised, not wanting to accept the fact that Tom was…  _ cuddling _ him? It was a blatant invasion of Tucker’s personal space, and Tom’s as well, but Tom didn’t seem to care.

“Shut up, this is a good bit!” Tom interjected, shushing Tucker. Tom was grinning from ear-to-ear and Tucker wanted to slap him. Tucker begrudgingly put his arms down, one around Tom’s shoulder and the other on the armrest, as they started to hurt.

If Tucker had been asked, he would have denied every accusation that he had in any way enjoyed cuddling with Tom. In reality, Tom was comfortingly warm and Tucker found himself relaxing into Tom’s embrace. Tom’s head drifted from Tucker’s shoulder to his chest and Tucker’s hand cupped his neck. Tucker took a shuddering breath, trying to stay calm. This was odd, but he and Tom had both had rough weeks. Tucker could use some time spent like this.

Tucker had been deliberately not looking down at Tom. But when Tom hummed and the sound was muffled by Tucker’s shirt, Tucker glanced down to check on him. He instantly looked back at the TV, feeling his face heat up. Tucker had to acknowledge that Tom was attractive, yes, but this was a whole other level.

The first thought that had gone through Tucker’s mind was  _ oh crap, he’s adorable. _ His next thought had been a desperate shutting-down of the first thought. Tucker choked on his next breath as he struggled with the realization that  _ maybe _ finding one’s best friend and political archnemesis overwhelmingly attractive was not normal.

Tucker hazarded another look at Tom. This time, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tom. Tom was curled into Tucker’s chest, one hand tangled in the fabric of Tucker’s shirt and the other around Tucker’s waist. He wasn’t watching the movie anymore, because his eyes were closed. With a start, Tucker realized that his hand was in Tom’s hair, and he had no idea how it had gotten there. Tucker’s heart was pounding in his ears.

His mind screamed that he should move - push Tom off of him or something - and get out, but his body betrayed him and he stayed where he was, not encouraging Tom but not  _ discouraging _ him either. At least, that was what he told himself - gently combing through Tom’s hair with his fingers probably counted as encouraging to anybody else.

  
Tucker removed his hand from Tom’s hair, trying to ignore how shaky he was. He wanted this to stop. Did he? Or was he just telling himself that because he thought that was what he was supposed to think? Begrudgingly, Tucker admitted to himself that he was enjoying this. And if he was enjoying it, perhaps he shouldn’t stop.

This train of thought was completely useless, Tucker quickly realized, when Tom made a keening noise and shifted. Tucker assumed that he wanted Tucker’s touch back, and confirmed this by going back to what he had been doing before, to which Tom gave a contented sigh. A small smile rose to Tucker’s face. 

God, what was  _ wrong _ with him? This was Tom! His friend  _ and _ political rival! And here they were, snuggling on a sofa like two teenagers in their honeymoon phase. Tucker cursed under his breath. Tucker was a mess.  _ It’s all the stress from work getting to me, _ he insisted to himself.  _ Tom just happens to be my affectionate roommate. It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s Tom. _

Tucker’s heart was racing as he continued to oblige Tom, trying to ignore the bubbles of happiness inside his chest every time Tom made an appreciative noise. The movie was forgotten, simply white noise in the background, no matter how hard Tucker tried to focus on it. Tom kept stealing his attention back again, with his stupid (cute) sounds and stupid (adorable) face and stupid (soft) hair and stupid (warm) touch.

With a jolt, a memory bubbled to the forefront of Tucker’s mind. It was of Tom, standing in Tucker’s office in the White House, debating his most recent financial plan with a passion. It had been just the two of them that night, working late, and even the president had retired to sleep. Tucker had been incredibly sleep-deprived, eyes barely staying open, and through Tom’s entire tirade about the economy, he’d only been able to focus on Tom’s various physical features and how captivating he found them. Tucker distinctly remembered the embarrassing thought of ‘if I kiss him, he’ll shut up’ that had crossed his mind, which he’d been hoping he’d forget about. It had been sleep deprivation and multiple pots of coffee talking. Or so he’d sworn. It hadn’t been the first nor the last time he’d thought about Tom that way.

But every time, he’d written it off as something else. It was just a coincidence that Tom happened to be there as the object of his thoughts - it was his state of mind, not Tom’s presence, that was causing them. He was sure that this was the case, even though it never happened when anybody else was around, despite multiple late nights with various other members of the Decorum party and even some drunken outings with Jeriah and Sonja.

Not once had a yearning thought for any man except Tom crossed Tucker’s mind in the whole time that they had known each other.

Tucker swore out loud with an intensity that would have made his mother incredibly disappointed. His exclamation broke the spell that he and Tom had weaved, and Tom’s head snapped up to look at him. Concern flooded Tom’s gaze and Tucker felt a rush of happiness at the thought that Tom  _ worried _ about him, another feeling which Tucker quickly filed under the ‘what the f-’ category that was growing in his mind.

“Jerry? Are you okay?” Tom murmured over the low din of the television. Under ordinary circumstances, Tucker would have snapped back at the nickname and told Tom to stop patronizing him with his concerns, but this wasn’t ordinary circumstances.

Tucker opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t get the words out. “I… I…” he stammered slowly, trying not to stare at Tom. Tucker had never thought of another man as gorgeous before, but it was the only word that could describe how Tom looked in that moment, with the setting sun slanting through the window and giving his face a warm glow. “ _ God,” _ Tucker finally managed.

Tom grinned and Tucker’s heart jumped into his throat. “I prefer ‘Tom’,” he said. “Do you want me to move? Am I making you uncomfortable?” Tom continued, eyebrows furrowing. He started to shift away from Tucker. “I’m-”

Tucker cut him off and quickly tightened his grip around Tom’s shoulders, holding him fast. “No, wait,” Tucker pleaded, “stay.” Tucker hated how needy and desperate he sounded. Apparently, not having a girlfriend since university made one much more susceptible to unfairly hot and annoyingly flirtatious Entropy politicians with adorable soft sides. Having a job at the White House didn’t leave much time for actively pursuing love.

“Tucker…?” Tom prompted, eyes darting over Tucker’s face as if the explanation for Tucker’s behaviour was there. He let Tucker pull him back down to where he had been leaning against Tucker’s chest, but the worry didn’t leave his gaze.

Tucker couldn’t breathe. Tom was looking at him and he was looking at Tom and he couldn’t wrap his head around what he was feeling and he was starting to get dizzy and his head was swimming and everything was going wrong and-

Tom cupped Tucker’s cheeks in his hands, forcing Tucker to look down at him. “Tucker, listen to me,” Tom ordered. Tucker mumbled assent. “Breathe, Tucker. Focus on me, c’mon.” He gently tapped Tucker’s temples with his fingers. “I think you need to sleep. I’ve never seen you look this out of it before.”

Tucker managed to steady his breathing, but his breaths were shaky. “I don’t- I don’t need sleep,” Tucker insisted. He didn’t feel tired. “I need…” God, how did he even say this? “I need you,” he said, meeting Tom’s eyes, “idiot.”

Tom blinked once, twice, and then a third time. “You… Tucker, you’re not making any sense,” Tom muttered, sitting back so that he wasn’t as up in Tucker’s face, which placed him directly in Tucker’s lap. “Did you raid the president’s secret weed stash?”

“The president doesn’t have a secret weed stash,” Tucker shot back, tilting his head. “Anyway, I’m making complete sense and it’s not my fault that you’re too much of a moron to understand.” He watched, amused, as Tom started to bristle angrily. “ _ I need you,” _ he repeated sharply before Tom could interject. “I need you because I’m- I’m  _ in love with you _ and it’s a disaster but I think I’ve been in love with you since we met and just didn’t want to think about it because you’re  _ Entropy _ and I hate your policies and everything you stand for but you’re adorable anyway and I want you to kiss me.” Tucker took a deep breath, trying to figure out if he had stopped to breathe anywhere in that mess of a sentence.

Tom was silent and Tucker felt anxiety starting to build up in his chest. This was the ultimate travesty, a large dark patch on Tucker’s otherwise spotless record. Falling for an Entropy politician? And one who probably hated him now, no less? He’d be ostracized from Decorum, rejected by his best friend, cast out on the street with nowhere to go (would Jeriah let Tucker stay with him after he found out?) and his career in shambles…

“Tucker… you oblivious, adorable  _ dork,” _ Tom started, taking Tucker completely by surprise. “Why do you think I’ve been flirting with you for years? Why do you think I moved in with you even though we’re on opposite parties? Why do you think I spend all my time trying to get your attention? I’ve been trying to get you to fall in love with me for years! And suddenly you’ve been in love with me this whole time and just  _ didn’t notice? _ I could have been spending all this energy on my tax plan instead!” Tom pouted.

Tucker was stunned by Tom’s response and tried to figure out how to react. “If you’re trying to make an excuse as to why your tax plan sucks so much, I won’t accept it,” Tucker mumbled. “Any tax plan built on that premise is guaranteed to be a disaster.”

“Hey,” Tom poked Tucker in the nose, “no discussing work at home, remember? Save it for when we can’t have dramatic declarations of love,  _ darling.” _ Tom smirked. “Can we go back to the part where you said that you wanted me to kiss you?”

Tucker sighed and rolled his eyes. “If you insist,  _ babe,” _ Tucker replied, but he couldn’t squash the smile that rose to his face. He ran his thumb along Tom’s jawline. “You’ve been trying to make me fall in love with you? You do know that’s not how love works, right?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Tom shot back indignantly, and Tucker was overcome by a sudden urge to kiss the obnoxious expression off of his face.

“It did  _ not,” _ Tucker insisted. “If you’d been paying attention, you would have heard that I was in love with you since we met, so therefore your efforts had nothing to do with me falling in love with you.” Tucker glared at him.  _ Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean you’re no longer infuriating, Tom. _

“Stop arguing with me and let me kiss you!” Tom whined, grabbing the collar of Tucker’s shirt with both hands. Tucker was starting to question his sanity.   
  


“I’m not stopping you, Tom!” Tucker responded, exasperated and becoming more annoyed by the second. “This was romantic before you decided to bring up  _ taxes _ for whatever reason.”

“Would you like a nice candlelit dinner, Tucker? How about some roses and a firework display? Maybe champagne on a yacht?” Tom drawled sarcastically. “Because I’m sorry, Jerry, unless you hadn’t noticed yet, I am terrible at romance! My strategy to make you fall in love with me was to  _ insult you _ , quote awful pickup lines from pickup lines dot com, and convince the media that we were sleeping together until you dated me out of frustration! I would be the worst-”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Tucker growled, and he grabbed a fistful of Tom’s shirt to pull him closer and aggressively mash their faces together. It was not pretty, it was not romantic, but it got the point across, and Tom’s tirade ended abruptly with a muffled yelp.

Tom melted into Tucker’s grip, both hands sliding around the back of Tucker’s neck, and one moved up into Tucker’s hair. Tucker’s free hand went to Tom’s back, making sure he didn’t fall out of the awkward position that he had been put in - sitting sideways on Tucker’s lap. Tucker was not surprised to discover that Tom was frustratingly loud even when his mouth was occupied by kissing Tucker, which made Tucker even more glad that they were in private.

An instant or an eternity later, Tom broke away to breathe, his hair curling over his forehead in a small, messy wave. Tucker brushed it out of the way with his fingers and pressed a light kiss to Tom’s head, a giddy smile playing on his lips. Tom looked fashionably exhausted, with blush staining his cheeks and the barest hint of a glaze over his eyes, which made Tucker’s heart leap.

“Can you shut me up that way every time you want me to stop talking?” Tom asked breathlessly, his gaze lingering on Tucker’s lips so long that Tucker was able to notice it. “It’s even better than raiding the president’s secret weed stash.” Tom smirked.

“The president doesn’t  _ have _ a secret weed stash,” Tucker protested weakly, tracing the curve of Tom’s back with his hand and watching Tom shiver. “The president does not do drugs.”

“Shut up,” Tom whispered with a grin. Tucker knew what was coming, but the touch was still electric when Tom’s lips pressed against his.

This kiss was softer and more prolonged, and each pause led to their lips connecting again. Tom’s hand tightened in Tucker’s hair and the other moved to cup Tucker’s jaw, popping the top button on Tucker’s shirt as it went. Tucker pulled Tom closer on his lap, releasing his grip on the front of Tom’s shirt and moving his hand to one of Tom’s hips to hold him. Even Tom’s  _ breathing _ was loud, but to snap at Tom, Tucker would have to break the kiss, and not a single cell in his body would agree to that.

They weren’t kissing like new lovers or even old lovers, they were kissing as if they were parted lovers who hadn’t seen each other for a million years, as if they were Romeo and Juliet united after death, and as if this was their last night on Earth and there was no place they’d rather spend it than in each other’s arms. Tom was a hurricane and Tucker was the eye, surrounded by a whirlwind of emotions and affections and movement as Tom’s hands became more daring (though not too daring, despite what Tom would preach to the media). Everything about them was opposite, which meant that they fit together perfectly; Tom responded to every move Tucker made without being prompted and vice versa, to an extent of understanding that Tucker didn’t even realize was possible between two humans.

Though Tom didn’t seem human anymore, not to Tucker’s eyes. Tom was an inferno, a blaze of heat and light and passion and chaos that flooded Tucker with scorching emotions and burned his skin with fiery touches and charred his lips with ash until all he could taste was  _ Tom. _ Tom was the sun and Tucker was a humble observer, able to do nothing but gaze and feel, unable to hold the sun in his hands and claim it as his own. And when the sun was gone Tucker suffered, shivering in the cold and dark, unable to do anything but wait for the light to return.

No, that wasn’t right. Tom was there, in Tucker’s arms,  _ his. _ Tom was not the sun, so perhaps he wasn’t an inferno either.

Maybe Tom was the ocean, a calm surface made of glass that could shatter in an instant and pull even the most experienced sailor underneath its waves and refuse to let go. Twisting, grabbing, rising, falling, always in motion even when it appeared to be standing still - the ocean did not stand still, it  _ waited, _ waited for Tucker to come to it and relax in its touch before it struck and now Tucker was drowning… drowning in warm, tropical waters that lapped gently at his skin; drowning in cold, salty waters that pushed him to the surface and let him keep drifting even when he had no strength left to swim; drowning in freezing, dark waters that whisked away his senses into a void of the ocean’s sweeping embrace.

But then again, Tom was never calm. He was never patient - hell, Tom had admitted that he’d been trying to  _ make _ Tucker fall in love with him. Tom was not the ocean.

A tempest, then - a rolling sky of dark clouds that could not be contained, controlled, nor hindered in any way. A storm of brilliant lightning and roaring thunder and tremendous, powerful downpours, rising and falling and  _ moving _ with every breath of the wind. Each clap of thunder louder than the last, the rain soaking through Tucker’s skin and clutching his bones in icy hands, making him tremble at the sheer force of it and gasp at every freezing knife that stabbed his veins.

And when the storm was over Tucker was left reeling at its devastation, gazing down at Tom who had finally broken the kiss, trying to find even a single word to describe to Tom how he felt.

“Good?” Tom prompted, moving his thumb across Tucker’s lips and leaving a trail of crackling sparks behind it. Yes, Tom was a storm, and Tucker had been struck by lightning.

“Good,” Tucker confirmed. “Really, really good.” And oh, if it wasn’t the most truthful tune Tucker had sung since becoming a politician.

“Good,” Tom replied, and the storm became a person again. The storm became  _ Tucker’s _ again. And Tucker held him close, because now that he had Tom, he never wanted to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> H GOSH I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT LIKE. GOSH.  
> please leave a comment telling me what y'all think i am so proud of this <3


End file.
